Chapter 19
NINETEEN
Della
“Hey love,” he greeted me.
I shoved my key into my door and unlocked it. “Don’t call me that.”
He ignored me. “What do you want for dinner—my treat.”
Brett walked into the kitchen and opened the junk drawer where the take-out menus were stored. “Chinese? Mexican? Thai?”
“I’ve got things to do, don’t you?” I tossed my purse on the coffee table and yanked off my high heels, instantly losing three inches of height but gaining yards of comfort.
Brett came over to me, wrapping his chest around my back. “Should’ve kept those on, I’d bend you over the couch,” he said, voice low.
As sexually frustrated as I’d been lately, I wasn’t in the mood. “I’ve got too much to do, and you know it.” I shoved a box out of my way. “Order whatever, I’ll eat it.”
Leaving him to make a command decision I grabbed my shoes and went to get changed. It was a shame really, that Brett was such an ass. If you took away the blackmailing, he could be a decent guy. We had plenty of fun together and I was sure he really did have feelings for me, I just had a strong aversion to extortion.
Burning those drugs was an accident and I’d never asked for help with my dad—that was all a decision he’d made entirely on his own.
To be fair, millionaire drug dealers weren’t known for leniency when it came to losing vast amounts of their products and I had no idea what Brett had done to get me out of that situation. I’d probably have had an epitaph carved in marble right now if he hadn’t worked some kind of magic.
“Brett,” I called out, walking into the kitchen. He put his phone down. “What was that dealer’s name? The one you covered me for?”
Brett pursed his mouth and then stared at me. “Why are you asking?”
“Because you never told me. I don’t know whose house we were at. Did you order?” I went to the living room and flopped down onto the couch, comfy in leggings and a tank top. I’d splurged and set the air conditioner ten degrees lower since I could afford to now and was happy to wear something other than shorts or a skirt.
He followed and stopped beside the couch. “Vincent. I ordered Chinese, hope you don’t mind.”
“Oh.” I replied with surprise. I hadn’t expected him to give me a name and I ran through my memory, trying to see if I’d ever read anything about a Vincent getting arrested for drugs. I came up empty, but there were thousands of drug dealers. “I still owe Vincent,” I mumbled.
“No, you still owe me.” He motioned for me to move. “Let me sit, you’re taking up the whole place,” he grumbled.
Sighing dramatically, I ducked out of the way. He slid me over more, so my head rested on his lap. “When will the food be here?” I asked.
Donning a ridiculous accent, he answered, “Fifteen minute.”
Brett began playing with my hair, pulling it out of the bun I’d arranged this morning. “Della, what do I have to do?”
His somber tone sent a deep regret through my chest. “Brett, it wouldn’t be fair to you if I faked it.”
His hand tightened in my hair, sending unwanted desire coursing through me, before he leaned down and kissed me roughly. “What happened to us?” he asked.
Nothing happened, I wanted to say. There never truly was a us .
For me, it’d always been more of a close and fond friendship, with benefits. The manipulation-slash-blackmail schtick of his didn’t inspire me to want commitment with the man.
It was confusing how he had so many good qualities, and a good heart, and then resorted to being an ass. He genuinely cared about my dad, too, which made all this even worse.
The two men adored each other, and Brett visited my dad once or twice a week and brought magazines to read to him. One of the nurses told me he spent an hour each time he visited, entertaining him. If Brett wasn’t a good man, would he do that?
Sitting up, I ignored his hopefully rhetorical question. “I only have a week before I have to be out of here. I have to get moving, get this place packed up.”
“Della,” he took my hand when I stood up. “Let me help.”
“Not if you’re going to hold it over my head.”
Brett pressed his lips into a thin line and tilted his head. “Knock it off, I’m just offering to help pack.”
“Did you decide to give me more help by paying the entirety of my dad’s bill?” When I went to call in my half of the payment earlier, I’d been told it was already taken care of.
“No, that wasn’t the deal. Why?” He began folding a box into a cube.
I stared at him, trying to figure out if he was being honest. It seemed a little too generous, even for him, but I wouldn’t put it past him to leave me even more indebted.
“Because it was already paid in full.”
Brett’s head whipped around in shock. Anger slowly seeped into his gaze, and he slammed the empty box down before flipping it over to tape the bottom shut. He reached onto a shelf and started grabbing my dad’s books and dropping roughly them into the container.
He had only filled one box with the items from the case and then our food arrived. Brett ran outside to pick it up while I grabbed plates and utensils. I took the opportunity to empty the cabinet onto the counter while I waited and arranged the dishes into orderly stacks.
This was a new beginning for me, and I wasn’t going to let anything ruin it or let myself be pushed into another unwanted circumstance. I would keep moving forward.
Brett had to be lying about the bill.